Born in '65 with a silver spoon in his mouth
To one of the oldest families in the South
The Jones' owned a couple hundred acres of woods

Henry Jones was up to no good
Took his two favorite things, money and booze, and
Started a business making mountain dew

He had his still hidden back at an old minin' spot
It was 1991 before he got caught


(Chorus) Back on the mountain where the moon shines
Ain't no roads, drop it in 4-wheel drive
Looks like water, but burns like fire

You can hear the money running through that copper wire
Breathe in the air as the whiskey boils
Jones' secret of barrels and coils at

That old mine, through the oaks and pines
Back on the mountain where the moon shines


Jacob Jones was his firstborn son
Grew up hearing what his father had done
He turned 18, looked to his daddy's past

He always took a likin' to his chemistry class
What started out small, just his friends there at home
Turned to a 50 client list on his iPhone

You'd never know from his clothes or the car that he drove
Makin' a dollar from the holler, was the son of a Jones, he'd go


(Chorus)

In a matter of time Brentley Jones ran that town, but

Just one slip and it would all come crashing down...

Late one summer night on I-81

Haulin' up to Charlottesville makin' a run
Saw the blue lights flash and pulled to the shoulder
The cop walked up into a corn liquor odor

Pulled him outside then searched the car
Popped the trunk on a hundred-somethin' mason jars
He pulled out his gun, there was no where to run

Ended in handcuffs like father like son

(Chorus)